


When you need it shouted

by BessTheKraken



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, sex happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BessTheKraken/pseuds/BessTheKraken
Summary: Does the title match the fic? Not really. I was blanking and used a random Hozier-based fic name generator.Hermione has a very healthy relationship with her body, even if it's not the same shape as it used to be. But nobody completely immune to societal messages, and sometimes that self-love needs a jump start to get going again.Lucky she's got a partner who's more than willing to help out.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	When you need it shouted

Hermione loved her body.  


It had survived years of primary school bullying, everything Hogwarts had thrown at her, and the months of privation during The War. And even after, when Wizarding Britain had to rebuild food supply chains destroyed by battle and malice.  


Her legs were strong enough to carry her to and from work each day. Her hands could perform magic—both literally and with legislation. Her mind was still the sharpest in any room, now tempered with an added decade of education, experience, and general hormonal settling.  


Really, she had nothing to complain about. She was in perfect working order. One might even argue, in her prime.  


And yet.  


It was silly. She knew it was silly. It was silly and petty and ridiculous, but despite knowing better, there were days where she looked at herself and couldn’t see anything except fat. The way her arms rounded out at her sides, and her stomach pouched out under her breasts, which themselves were far from the perky handfuls they’d once been, and her thighs and the cellulite… All the ‘bad’ things she’d somehow managed to learn to hate, despite never so much as touching a Witch Weekly or visiting Parvati and Lavender’s ‘spa’ in Hogsmeade.  


Today was one of those days.  


She understood how it happened, of course. She’d spent the day with the Partners’ Club at the World Cup, and a long day in the hot sun surrounded by fit and toned athletes and their fit and toned partners—most of whom, she’d learned, did regularly utilize the Hogsmeade MediSpa—was enough to sap the confidence of any fat woman, no matter how brilliant and accomplished. When she was tired and sweaty, with her hair frizzing out, passing legislation to support the UK’s werewolf population somehow seemed meaningless in the face of Ginny’s cut biceps or Gwenog’s wife’s flawless skin.  


She knew it was ridiculous. She was healthy and successful in ways that were meaningful to her, but tonight she couldn’t help rubbing at the red marks her muggle bra straps left in her shoulders, and sucking in her stomach, and trying different angles in the mirror to give herself a more acceptable shape.  


“I love myself,” she told her reflection quietly, “and this will pass.”  


But it wasn’t passing yet, and a small part of her despised herself for worrying about something so ridiculous, even as she couldn’t stop the worrying.  


There was a knock at the closet door. “Mila?”  


“Yes, hang on.” Hermione scrambled into her nightie. Then into her bathrobe for good measure.  


When she emerged, Viktor was lounging on their decadent, massive bed. The only light in the room came from her bedside lamp, and it cast his fit and toned athlete’s body into an array of attractive shadows that she would probably have found erotic on any other night. Tonight it was just something else she wasn’t measuring up to.  


“I was worried you were lost.” He teased.  


“The closet’s not that big.” She meant it to sound light, teasing right back, but to her horror her voice cracked on the word “big.”  


Viktor’s gaze softened with concern. He sat up and reached out a hand. She reluctantly let him draw her into his arms.  


“Is everything okay?”  


She shook her head, trying to shake off his concern. “It’s silly.”  


“Ah.” He nodded behind her. “This makes sense. You are a very silly witch. It’s well known.”  


Hermione chuckled, although it was slightly watery. “Someone has to match you.”  


Viktor didn’t respond. He was like that when she was upset, giving her space to process and decide what she needed. The warmth of his body against hers was comforting enough that she almost let it go unspoken. But it was late, and she was low.  


“Does it ever bother you? That I’ve gotten…soft?” She bit her lip against the anxious tears that sprang up in her eyes.  


“No.”  


It was firm and immediate. Hermione turned so she could eye him. Viktor’s eyes were crinkled with repressed laughter. “Love, why on earth would I be upset with any freckle on your body?”  


“It’s not the freckles I’m worried about.” Hermione groused.  


Viktor wiggled so they were reclined against the pillows and headboard. “I worship every inch of you, mila.” He kissed her forehead, then her lips, so gently that she lost the battle to keep tears from falling.  


“But I’m fat.” The words choked her. Nearly strangled her. “And you’re…”  


His hands were stroking her arms and hips. “This is the happy body we fought for. You are a happy woman’s body. A peaceful body.” He bent a little to kiss the place where her neck and shoulder met. “A sexy body.”  


“You don’t ever wish I was more…” More like Ginny. Like the Patils. Like she was ten years younger.  


“Why? I have never wished you anything other than you are. I would never want you to go back to the life of the war, all fear and starvation and tension so big it would snap you in two. I would never ask you to have a child’s body. That is for a child only.”  


It took her a minute to realize his hand was creeping up her leg, nudging her bathrobe aside and raising the hem of her nightie to indecent heights.  


“Sex isn’t always the answer.” She said, a little breathless with emotion and sudden anticipation.  


Viktor was grinning now. “You can’t know for sure unless we try. Besides, if you can’t love your body right now, I am happy to do it for you.”  


This time he rolled until he was on top of her. He leaned down for a kiss. Hermione let him, relishing his warmth, the emotional and the physical.  


His lips were a little chapped from the wind flying always generated. He kissed her lips, then her cheeks, then the tear tracks from the corners of her eyes to her hair. “My own love.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “There is no one I could ever want over you. And no way I’d have you other than you are, soft and warm and wonderful.”  


He kissed her again and this time she managed some enthusiasm to kiss him back, tilting her head and rising up to meet him. She reached up to tangle a hand in his hair and press them closer together.  


When he pulled back, she discovered that he’d managed to untie her bathrobe and slide it off her shoulders while she was distracted.  


“Viktor!” She gasped. “When did you get so sneaky?”  


He looked unabashedly smug. “Just helping the process along. Now, come on.” He sat back on his heels and waggled a hand meaningfully.  


Hermione bit her lip.  


“I promise to enjoy it very much.” Viktor’s voice was solemn, but his eyes were merry.  


“You.” Hermione swatted at his shoulder.  


“Really? If you insist.” Viktor stood, wobbling precariously on the mattress and pulled down his boxers, then beamed down at her. His eyebrows rose suggestively.  


“Get down here before you hurt yourself.” Hermione couldn’t help smiling as she extended a hand. “Anyway, you can help me better from here.”  


“Gladly.” He took her hand and used their leverage to pul her up to fully sitting as he knelt down between her legs.  


She shrugged off the bathrobe entirely and let him toss it off to the side. Then she wiggled until her nightie was kilted up around her hips. Viktor took the hem at either side and slowly—ever so slowly—drew it up over her head before sending it to join her robe. He looked at her then. Just looked, like she was a work of fine art, or maybe a meal and he was trying to decide where to start.  


Acutely aware that sitting up in bed with her knees crooked wasn’t her best angle, but trying to get into the spirit, Hermione said “C’mere you.” She drew him to her for another kiss, and this time she let her hands explore him as they fell back onto the pillows.  


She ran her hands over his shoulders. She loved his strong, broad shoulders. The way the muscles around his shoulder blades flexed when he worked out or just moved the right way. Now she smoothed the muscles and bones under his skin and traced the dips and curves of each one. She’d never worked out exactly how lovers “nibbled” on one another in books, but if she did, that would be where she’d start. Instead she made do with using the pads of her fingers to memorize ever warm inch.  


Eventually she moved one hand up to tangle in his hair again, and scratched gently at the back of his scalp. Viktor moaned in response and Hermione was suddenly aware of a new, anticipatory sensation between her legs.  


Viktor broke the kiss, to her disappointment, and began leaving messy kisses along her jawline and down her throat. While his thumbs caressed the sides of her breasts, he kissed the hollow at the base of her throat and down her breastbone.  


When he traced the crease under one breast, it was Hermione’s turn to gasp. Her hips twitched toward him involuntarily. Not that she disagreed with them.  


She felt him smile against her ribs. “So eager already? But there is no rush.” He gave a quick lick to her other breast and she gave him the tiniest whimper in response.  


Most of his body was out of her reach now, so while he pinched her nipples and ran his nails down her sensitive sides, she traced patterns over his biceps and shoulders.  


He crept downward, running rough hands over her stomach and hips, and dipping his tongue into her belly button ever so briefly. Then he was there, at the point that had gradually demanded more and more of her attention.  


Viktor ran a finger over her clit, eliciting another gasp, and down between her labia. “So wet.” He said, eyes still playful. “But not enough, I think.”  


His tongue touched her outer labia and she jumped, hips rising to meet him. He stroked up and down the other, while running a finger back and furth, just below her cunt. It was delicious.  


It was unbearable.  


“Viktor,” she whispered. Her throat didn’t seem to want to create sound.  


She felt him smiling again, then his lips closed over her clit. At the same time, the finger that had been teasing her pushed inside.  


His tongue rolled over and over her clit and her finger rubbed at the rough patch inside moments she shuddered as the sensations built into orgasm.  


When she opened her eyes again, he had his wand in hand. He cast the two charms—anti-pregnancy and anti-infection—on her, then himself, and tossed it aside to join her long-forgotten nightwear. He leaned down over her, one hand supporting himself and one guiding his penis up and down her labia, teasing both of them.  


Hermione gazed up into his dark, focused eyes. “I love you. So much.”  


“I love you too.” He guided himself into her.  


It was so wonderful and intense that she was quickly halfway to orgasm again. Viktor had his head on her shoulder as he surged in and out and in and out. She wrapped one hand around his shoulders, now dewy with sweat, and slipped the other between them to rub her clit, so slick from his saliva and her own lubrication. As she did, her fingers grazed his penis, making them both groan.  


She came again with a sigh caught in her throat and, two deep thrusts later, Viktor tightened, then gently collapsed on top of her.  


Once his breathing returned to normal, he rolled to the side and held out an arm so Hermione could cuddle into his side.  


“See?” He said sleepily “Very sexy body.”  


Hermione smiled.  


Yeah, maybe it was.


End file.
